If you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all.
Good advice in many instances. Sometimes, however, forcing yourself not to talk about the “bad” blocks the good too. This is where I’ve been. I haven’t blogged about the good things in my life (and there are plenty – for example we are officially cloth diapering!) because I’m trying too hard to hold back the bad things I want to talk about. So, this is going to be a bitching post. Consider yourself warned.
This has not been a happy pregnancy. I mean – I’m happy to be pregnant, thrilled it is twins, and aware of how very luck I am. But I’m not happy about being SO SICK. I’m sick of vomiting every. day. I’m sick of red splotches of broken capillaries on my face from retching so hard. I’m sick of going to the hospital for fluids because I can’t keep any food or even water down. I’m sick of the way phenergen makes me feel (even though I’m glad it helps me get nutrients to my babies).
I’m sick of the headaches. Two week long headaches that laugh in the face of Tylenol. Headaches that make me long to take the pain-relieving imitrex in the medicine cabinet (even though I can’t since it is iatrogenic). I’m sick of headaches that exacerbate my nausea which exacerbates my headaches.
I’m sick of heart palpitations and shortness of breath that sent me to the ER last week only to find out they are a “normal” but frightening result of the increased blood flow and heart size due to multiple pregnancy.
I’m sick of being so tired that I can only do the bare minimum per day and sleep the rest of the time. I’m sick of letting everyone down because I don’t have the energy to return emails or phone calls.
I’m sick of hearing how “so-and-so felt great when they were pregnant” and “she’s pregnant and she is here every day.” I’m sick of feeling like people think my symptoms are average pregnancy annoyances and I’m just being a complainer. I can assure you this is NOTHING like the inconveniences of my previous pregnancy. This is sickness – absence of health. Perhaps 99% of pregnancies are a walk in the park (and some even feel “like they could run a marathon”) but some are not. If I had cancer would you tell me “oh my aunt had breast cancer and she never missed a day of work”? I think it is a special misogyny to assume a woman is “being a baby” if she is truly sick with pregnancy.
I’m sick of letting it get to me. I’m sick of feeling depression knocking on my door because of the weight of smiling and pretending everything is fine.
Everything isn’t fine. Blessed? Yes. Worth it? Of course. But fine? No. Sorry but I’m not.